


of Hogwarts and Dragons

by mt_lyfe



Series: The Domestic Life of A Dragon [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Don't copy to another site, Dragon Stiles Stilinski, Getting Together, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, M/M, Sort Of, Thieving Bowtruckle, Thieving Dragon, Thieving niffler, i'm not counting, the bowtruckle is non-binary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25617733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mt_lyfe/pseuds/mt_lyfe
Summary: Stiles pushes his pile into the centre. “All in baby.”The niffler chitters angrily and tosses the cards onto the table. Fold.“Don’t teach my niffler how to gamble,” Derek grumbles.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: The Domestic Life of A Dragon [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1804507
Comments: 29
Kudos: 405





	of Hogwarts and Dragons

**Author's Note:**

> If I ever think of anymore Hogwarts themed things I'll put it in a separate series. For now it'll stay here. I'm going to post this before I question my sanity.
> 
> **Edited for spacing Jan 23, 2021**

Derek was a quiet Hufflepuff. He mostly kept to himself and graduated with Outstanding in both Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology. He took two years off of job hunting to travel and learn more about magical creatures in different countries. He came back when he heard the aged Care of Magical Creatures professor retired and the position was up for grabs. With just a bit of luck and credentials from his travels he became the new and youngest professor to be hired at Hogwarts. He could surround himself with plants and animals away from most of the magical community with the exception of teaching classes. It wasn’t a bad job.

He enjoyed being around plants and animals much more than living human beings; his best friend was a Bowtruckle. They’d met when he was helping Professor Sprout when a family of Bowtruckles got trapped in the greenhouse delirious with fever. He’d nursed them back to health. One of them got attached to him after they had recovered and refused to return back to the Forbidden Forest, choosing to follow him around the castle.

Bowtruckles are highly sentient beings and understand multitudes of languages. After some probing which involved a lot of phrased questions with yes or no answers, he found out that this Bowtruckle just liked being around wizards and found them to be fascinating. After several more questions he discovered that the Bowtruckle preferred they/them/theirs pronouns. They were highly adamant not to be called ‘it’. He named them Pickett. Most days Pickett rides in the breast pocket of his black robes observing his lessons.

***

“There’s something prowling in the dungeons. I trust you will get it under control.”

“Yes Headmaster.”

The other Professors often came to Derek for help with anything to do with magical creatures such as the pixie infestation in the charms classroom, or that time when the Giant Squid decided to try sunbathing on the Quidditch Pitch in the middle of team practice. In other words, he was glorified Pest Control Services. At least he was good at his job. That was how he finds himself in this current predicament.

“Give it to me!”

Derek is currently holding a baby dragon by the tail carefully avoiding the spikes. It’s barely bigger than a gecko. He tracked the pest to what was supposed to be a heavily spelled Potions cabinet in the dungeons. His other hand was examining the vial which the creature had almost succeeded in stealing. It was 2/3 full.

“Felix Felicis.” Liquid Luck. He was glad he got here before the creature bolted. “Professor Harris was going to give that out as a prize for his next potions competition. How did you know this was the only occasion it’s allowed on school grounds?”

“Yea well Harris is an ass anyways. I want the Philosopher’s Stone and that Felix is going to lead me right to it!”

He eyes the struggling dragon again. “I thought your kind came in bigger sizes.”

The creature is still fruitlessly struggling and snapping while it answered, “Rude. That's after a few more years! And amassing a mountain of treasure! I need treasure! So let me have that Felix!”

“Not a chance.”

“Jokes on you buddy, I already drank it!” 

The dragon suddenly gets enough momentum from the struggling and twists upwards to chomp on Derek's finger. Derek curses and releases his grip on reflex.

Derek doesn’t normally swear at magical creatures but this one... “Get back here you little shit!”

 _“It’s Stiles! Not ‘little shit!’”_ The dragon shouts back as he charges out the door.

Still cursing, Derek heads to the Hospital Wing because he doesn’t want to find out firsthand if he could contract dragon pox from a bite.

He returns late back to his rooms in the Professor’s Wing and passes out exhausted at the days events.

***

Derek wakes up later than usual in the morning still feeling tired and the previous night’s events come rushing back to him. He rolls out of bed with a groan and heads to the adjoining bathroom to wash and brush. He looks at his still bandaged finger because dragon bites take a bit longer than normal to heal according to Madam McCall.

He doesn’t report that it’s a thieving dragon loose in the castle. Derek’s flaw is that he has a soft spot for magical creatures and decides to give it the benefit of the doubt as long as he doesn’t see it stealing again. How much damage could a tiny dragon that’s ingested 1/3 of vial of Felix potion do anyways?

He should not have asked himself that question. He just might regret it later.

He arrives at the Great Hall for a quick breakfast before he teaches his first class of the day. The Hall is mostly empty with only a few students scattered about; those that didn’t have class first thing in the morning. He blinks to register what he’s seeing and that he is in fact not imagining things. He’s not wrong. There is a little brown dragon chowing down on the leftover oatmeal with gusto; has it grown bigger?

Derek approaches cautiously, none of the students seems to notice the creature. “What are you doing here?”

Stiles glances up and resumes to cram more food into his mouth before answering. “Breakfast. It’s a thing people do in the morning.”

“Oatmeal?”

“It’s nutritional. I can’t be hunting owls and rodents three times a day seven days a week.”

  
“You hunt the school owls.” It isn’t a question.

“No! There are plenty of wild owls in the Forest. They taste like chicken, but you know sometimes I miss real chicken. And buttered toast. So I’m here.” He proceeds to decimate the stack of toast to prove his point.

Derek blinks and registers this new information. They were having a civil conversation with no biting involved. Derek did always talk more with animals. Maybe that was it. It didn’t seem like this dragon was doing harm feasting on leftover breakfast.

He snaps out of his thoughts when the first toll of the bell sounds signalling the start of lessons.

Oh bullocks, he has a class to teach

Derek rushes out of the castle to the school grounds where his cabin workshop is and also where his classes are held. He’s lucky that he has prepared the lesson before his dragon mishap last night. “Gather around now.” He says briskly and summons multiple large crates from his workshop.

The mixed class of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs shuffle into a closer ring around Derek.

“Today we're going to be studying nifflers.” He opens a crate only to find... it's Stiles. Stuffing his pouch silly with gold.

“That's not a niffler!” One of the students points out the obvious.

“Five points from Gryffindor, Derek growls. He’s an adult yes, but it didn’t mean he had to act like one first thing in the morning.

“Stiles what are you doing in the niffler’s cage.” He says flatly. Punctuation be dammed.

“They have the _shiniest_ things. We're best friends. I hang out here all the time.” He unashamedly keeps stuffing his pouch full of shiny goods.

The students gawk at the spectacle of their Professor arguing with a dragon.

“You're stealing from a niffler. Seriously?”

“Not the first time this happened buddy! That's what friends do to each other!” He keeps going unperturbed—was that the golden pocket watch Flitwick said he was missing? “I steal from them; they steal it back. The cycle of friendship. It’s beautiful.”

Outrage squeals can be heard coming from further in the cage. Stiles gives Derek a saucy wink right before bolting towards the Forbidden Forest just as a hoard of nifflers come screeching out of the unlatched door with a fiery vengeance.

Derek groans inwardly before whipping out his wand to accio the nifflers back. They are part of today’s lesson after all, Stiles isn’t. He was in no way saving Stiles from being pummeled by an army of nifflers after blatantly robbing them blind in broad daylight.

***

There wasn’t anything he could do about the dragon wandering around campus, it wasn’t like he was harming the students and it looked like no one knew of his existence. Derek couldn’t very well banish it to the Forbidden Forest since magic doesn’t work against dragon hide. The best thing was to cajole him back to the Forest with the promise of treasure. Then at least Derek could tell Headmaster Deaton that he tried. Which seemed easy enough since Stiles practically followed him into the Forest when he noticed there was a Bowtruckle hanging off of Derek.

Stiles rarely stayed still, choosing to flit constantly around his head in dizzying circles.

“Hey you have a Bowtruckle! These guys can pick any lock!”

He sticks out a claw at the creature “Nice ta meet cha I’m Stiles.”

Pickett chitters before hiding themself back under Derek’s robe.

“Well that sounds like the start of a beautiful friendship.”

“Don’t corrupt Pickett,” Derek grumbles.

***

The next time he meets the creature is again not under favourable circumstances.

He’s heading back to his rooms when he notices the door slightly ajar and the outer door handle missing. That was odd. Theft in the castle was rare—well less rare now he supposes. He approaches with caution taking out his wand and slowly pushes the door open peering in.

It’s a Hungarian Horntail. Now that he gets a good look at it under better lighting and not while sleep deprived. It seems to have grown even larger in such a short amount of time. Still small, but much bigger than when he first found the dragon in the dungeons. He has earthy brown scales and spikes protruding along the back of his neck all the way down the spine ending at the tip of a long thin tail which is currently whipping back and forth excitedly as he seems to be raiding Derek’s liquor cabinet. What.

It also explains the missing door handle. His rooms are not in danger of being robbed since Derek didn’t own a speck of gold anything. Nothing is in danger of being stolen unless you count the brass plated door handle, he supposes given the lack of available shiny, it appeared to be reflective enough for a thieving little dragon. Not that he needs the door handle what with the Alohomora spell.

“What are you doing now. I thought I left you in the Forbidden Forest.”

Stiles hauls out the bottle of Firewhiskey, uncorks it and takes a surprisingly healthy gulp considering his size before answering, “that you did. The Forest doesn’t have booze. I had a bad day I need a drink.”

Now Derek feels bad. He left a baby dragon alone in the Forbidden Forest after all. Even if Stiles seems to be growing at a remarkably fast rate.

Pickett is perched on the Bonsai tree on top of the cabinet peering down at the intruder. They hiss at the little dragon.

Stiles being the ever mature being that he is hisses back, sending embers flying all but narrowly missing the plant and luckily didn’t set the cabinet on fire.

“Stiles,” Derek warns, “play nice.”

The Bowtruckle blows a raspberry before disappearing into the tree.

What was with him being a magnet for tiny thieving creatures? At this point he should be used to magical creatures taking shelter in his rooms. Just that none of them have ever gone for his liquor cabinet. He’s too tired take it back. All he could manage was a “don’t feed Pickett any alcohol, it’ll kill them.” Little woodland creatures seem to attach themselves to him anyways.

He goes through his nightly wind-down routine watering the various plants around his rooms before settling in to bed while listening to a drunken dragon twirling around the table top and belting out the lyrics to “Ride My Horntail.” Stiles has a surprisingly decent voice despite singing obscene songs. Derek briefly thought he heard a niffler join in before sleep overtook him.

He wakes up to Pickett chittering incessantly in his ear. When he cracks his eyes open there’s an unfamiliar weight on his chest. It isn’t unusual to find the odd creature sleeping with him during the cold winter months, but this was a sight. Stiles and a niffler—the very one he stole from yesterday; Derek can tell them apart—is duking it out on top of him as they squabble and tug for possession of a galleon. Both sides hissing and spitting madly. He questions himself why he didn’t wake up sooner.

He growls and yanks the two apart. Stiles has the better grip on the galleon and echoes his triumph over the thieving niffler that was stealing his cash.

“Both of you stop this right now!” It’s too early in the morning to deal with this.

This is his life now. He groans and makes sure the two little creatures are separated while he rushes to brush his teeth. He exits the washroom to find Stiles and the niffler side-eyeing each other from across the table.

They both lean forward slightly to do the obligatory sniff and greet.

Stiles eyes the niffler and seems to be contemplating something.

The niffler gives him the stink eye back.

At least they aren’t going for each other’s throats again. He doesn’t have time to deal with this. Good thing the unit on nifflers is finished so it could stay in his rooms. He rushes off to breakfast and the start of lessons.

Glorified Pest control indeed.

***

“How’s the rodent problem coming along?”

“It’s uh being taken care of. The creature is being persuaded to leave the school grounds but it’s mostly harmless,” Derek tries to explain awkwardly. Talking to other humans is not his forte.

“Mhm.” Professor Deaton hums noncommittedly. He peers over the half moon glasses and Derek feels like the Headmaster can see into his heart. It’s hammering wildly as he thinks back to last night—a drunken Stiles who also knew a wide selection of Muggle music belted out tunes to “Feed Me Diamonds” using the empty bottle of Firewhiskey as a mic to serenade the niffler late into the night. Thank Merlin his rooms are spelled to be soundproof.

After a moment Deaton says, “you might want to check the Owlery. The owls looked spooked during the mail delivery this morning.”

“Yes Headmaster.”

Derek trudges up the long flights of stairs toward the Owlery. It wouldn’t be the first time some poor owl caught a virus on a long out-of-country flight and passed it on to the others. He hates the long flights of steps and endless staircases of Hogwarts. Reaching the last steps, he hears the frantic hooting of multiple owls. Opening the door he is almost hit in the face as two spooked out owls makes their escape through the open door nearly colliding into him.

What a sight beheld him. That thieving dragon was chasing the owls ‘round and ‘round the roost. The owls barely had time to land and catch their breaths before the dragon homed in trying to get his prickly claws on the packages still fixed to their leg, an endless game of tag.

“Stiles!” Derek roared, causing every creature to stop mid-flight and stare at the newcomer.

“What did I tell you about eating the owls!” He growls.

“I wasn’t going to eat them!” He snaps. “Sure they taste like chicken, but there’s only so many times I can stand eating chicken in a week not that chicken isn’t good bu—”

Derek growl reverberates loudly, as his patience wears thin.

“I mean, I’m just checking the students’ mail!”

“What pray Merlin for?”

“You know! In case there are Dark Artifacts coming into the school through the mailing system! No one ever screens the mail!”

“You mean you’re screening for ‘ _shiny_ Dark Artifacts’, right?”

“Well sure that too. Did you know that aside from chocolate, and flowers, jewelry is the next most popular gift on Valentines Day?” Stiles tries for an innocent, not so innocent toothy grin.

“Stay out of the students’ mail!”

He has his work cut out for him checking the school’s owls along with the students’ personal owls for injuries caused by Stiles.

Once the owls learned they weren’t in danger of being attacked they settled down for Derek to look over. Stiles curls up by his side playing with a gold coin, unrepentant of his actions. What a way to spend his Valentines Day working, not that he has anything better planned.

***

Spring marks the start of the Quidditch season. One of the few times Derek has some time to spare from his duties to watch the game. Ravenclaw vs. Hufflepuff.

 _“Next, we have Ravenclaw’s McCallister with the quaffle—great pass to Lee and she goes in for the shot! Oh look out! Hufflepuff’s beater Davies just sent a bludger towards Lee. She narrowly dodges but drops the quaffle!”_ Hufflepuff cheers loudly from the stands.

_“Good save from her teammate Barnes and she shoots! 20-10 Ravenclaw in the lead!”_

_“Looks like both teams’ seeker has spotted the snitch! They’re going in! That’s a sharp dive I hope they don’t crash into each other_ _—_ _wait, what is happening? What is that?! Time out! Time out! Non-player has entered the pitch—outside interference!”_

Everyone leans forward to get a clearer look at the pitch. That’s when Derek sees Stiles zipping into the field speeding after what is definitely the golden snitch trying to catch it.

“Stiles!” He roars before rushing down the steps of the spectator’s tower before he gets in trouble because magical creatures are under his care and Stiles is a magical creature.

Madam Argent the referee and flying instructor is running into the pitch as well. The stands are a mess as everyone leans on the edge trying to get a better look at the dragon chasing after the snitch. Stiles speeds up and snatches it in midair the same moment Madam Argent shoots a well aimed gravity jinx at the snitch and they both go plummeting onto the ground.

Stiles keeps a determined grip on the heavy snitch even though it’s struggling to fly free. His claws are dug in deep and they’re rolling through the mud and grass as he fights to get a solid grip on it. More professors are running into the pitch and the red light of stunning spells light up the stadium as they all shoot it at Stiles. Derek’s heart is racing in fear before he remembers that dragon hide is immune to stunning spells and it just bounces off.

Stiles finally abandons the weighed down snitch before the professors close in on him and zips through the bodies, he spots Derek running towards him and flies straight into him. Derek barely has time to notice how large and brown his eyes are before the dragon goes diving into his robes.

“Hide me, hide me!” Stiles whispers from inside his robes. Then a, “make room Pickett!”

This dragon is going to be the death of him. Stiles starts to get handsy under the robe as he trudges back into the castle. The gall.

He dumps Stiles out of his robes once they're safety back in his rooms. Stiles struggles to untangle himself and emerges from the folds.

“Damn Madam Argent still has a wicked aim! Did you see how she jinxed that snitch in midair?”

***

The first rays of sunlight shine in his eye. Derek groans and resists rolling over. He doesn’t want to dislodge the nest of dragon, niffler and Bowtruckle all curled up in various parts of his bed. Since when did this become his norm? He needs to get up earlier than usual today because the unit on Hippogriffs needs quite a bit of preparation. He carefully scoots out of bed and gives Pickett a poke. Usually they wake up the same time as him and follow him to get breakfast, but Pickett just rolls over and chirps before going back to sleep.

Later in the day he returns to the Great Hall to grab a quick breakfast before he has to teach. He spies the three of them commandeering a corner table. The gang looks like they’re deep in the midst of discussing the next heist while demolishing breakfast. Looks like Pickett slept in because Stiles doesn’t like to get up early. Traitor.

***

He opens the door to the Professor Harris’ office to find Stiles, his niffler, and his Bowtruckle sitting in a circle. The three appear to be bonding over student confiscated merchandise. One of them _had_ to have found out that Harris was out sick. That is why they gathered in his office without a care in the world rummaging through Harris’ drawers in search of banned goods. Here Derek was, bringing in food for Harris’ cat.

“That stuff was confiscated from students for a reason,” he comments dryly.

The trio doesn’t pay him any attention. They are fixated on the loot less one of them sneaks something extra. What a friendship this is; based on minimal trust and divvying up stolen goods together. At least they aren’t fighting tooth and nail in the mornings now.

***

He comes back to his rooms to find Stiles, Pickett and the niffler on top of the table, this is becoming an increasingly familiar scene. It looks like that niffler is here to stay. The three of them look like they are deep in a muggle card game. It feels like he walked into the backroom of a shady gambling den housing a group of thieves. There’s even a heap of eclectic treasure piled in front of each of them acting like poker chips.

Stiles pushes his pile into the centre. “All in baby.” The niffler chitters angrily and tosses the cards onto the table. Fold.

“Don’t teach my niffler how to gamble,” Derek grumbles.

Pickett looks at their hand of cards briefly before pushing half their pile of treasure into the middle. It looks like they are winning considering they had the larger treasure pile.

“Crassus wanted to learn how to play poker,” Stiles says absentmindedly; his focus is on the card game.

“Crassus?”

Stiles waves a claw vaguely in the niffler’s direction. “Wealthiest man in Rome. Born 115BC. He extorted people’s money to put out fires.” The next card is dealt.

“You named my niffler Crassus.” Derek said flatly.

“Someone has to name him. Imagine that when I asked for his name and he said you didn’t give him one.” Stiles slaps the cards down “Royal Flush baby!”

“You speak niffler.” At this point Derek shouldn’t be surprised.

“Perks of being a half-dragon buddy.” He eagerly rakes in his winnings.

Pickett tosses their cards down with an annoyed huff. They just lost half their winnings. Now Stiles is in the lead.

Crassus chitters angrily again.

“Alright, alright winner shuffles.” Stiles snaps his claws and the deck of cards shuffle themselves. Crassus chitters again.

“No buddy, just because I use magic to shuffle doesn’t mean I rigged it.” The pile of muggle cards spits out two cards each to the three of them before settling on to the centre of the table.

“You know how to play muggle card games.”

“Yea dude, didn’t I already mention ‘half-dragon’?”

“What.”

Stiles stops in the middle of reorganizing his cards. “Half-dragon, half-wizard dude. Mum’s a dragon, dad’s a muggle. Well technically Mum’s half too but it doesn’t work like that with dragon blood you see, any bit of dragon lineage even if it’s a drop means you’re automatically half. It’s the dominant gene and it manifests when the wizard comes of age. So yea I’ve been my wonderful scaly self for almost a year now. You didn’t know?”

“Bloody hell.”

“Dude, you’re supposed to be the resident magical creatures expert. You thought all dragons could talk just like that?”

***

Now he is much more curious about Stiles, but he doesn’t know how to ask personal questions. Even though Stiles has no sense of personal space and boundaries. Derek isn’t the same.

Time flies and before he knows it, it’s close to the end of the school year. He comes to accept the dragon in his life. Same way Pickett and Crassus had wormed their way in.

***

Derek wakes up to a heavier than usual weight on his chest. He cracks an eye open wondering what creature has broken out of their pen and sneaked into his rooms to sleep with him this time. He sees a man passed out, drooling on him and almost pulls a Professor Binns and crosses over the veil.

His heart is hammering, and he just stares as the other man stirs then wakes up and blinks at his surroundings. They lock eyes.

“You. It’s you. Stiles.” Derek is shocked to see an old schoolmate lying on top of him.

“Yes it’s Stiles. You knew that already.”

“No, I mean Stiles Stilinski. Fifth-Year Slytherin when I graduated.”

“Dude! You remember me?! I thought you didn’t even know I existed back then! And you didn’t react when I told you my name!”

“It didn’t occur to me you were a dragon!” That explains his fondness towards the dragon and all magical creatures but an underlying irritation. That was probably due to the wizard half he realizes now.

“Dude! How many people do you know that are named Stiles! And I wasn’t a dragon before. It’s a thing that happens when I turned 17. The dragon blood activated. Then it’s normal to be stuck as a dragon for a year. Year’s up. So here I am. Back to my wonderful self. Flailing limbs, opposable thumbs and all.”

He’s still lying on Derek’s chest the entire time. Their faces are way too close together while having this conversation. “A year later. Back to being human with the power to shift. I guess like an animagus. Except more evolved. I can do wandless magic as a dragon.”

Apparently, Headmaster Deaton did know the existence of Stiles wandering about as a dragon. Stiles had pre-approved permission to stay an extra year at Hogwarts after graduation because it was safer as a young dragon. He was offered a minor teaching position as an Assistant Professor in History of Magic in preparation for whenever the ghost of Professor Binns felt like retiring.

Stiles still comes by his rooms even though he’s got his own in the Professor’s Wing to sleep on top of him, in human or dragon form. He’s like a miniature furnace during cold nights.

***

He should have known better. Just because Stiles regained his human form and is a fully functioning adult wizard with a job doesn’t mean he’ll stay out of trouble.

Derek’s walking through the dungeons and rounds the corner to hear whispered hisses of, “Crassus stay where you are! You’re the lookout! Pickett come with me; Harris has a special lock for his office. Remember I showed you how to deal with magical locks right?”

**Author's Note:**

> Stiles actually steals and drinks the Felix potion when he heard Derek came back to work as a Professor at Hogwarts. Because Derek never noticed him in all the time they were in school together. What with being in different years and different houses and Derek only paying attention to plants and animals. So he drinks the potion and waits for Derek to show up. Luck comes in to effect to get them to meet. (Derek is actually what Stiles was referring to as the Philosopher's Stone, the ultimate treasure.) I just can't figure out how to write it.
> 
> Stile's pouch where he hides all his gold is the same pouch a niffler has when you see it stuffing itself silly with treasure in the movie Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. If you haven't seen the movie just think of Doraemon. Or a kangaroo. Basically it's a stomach pouch with infinite capacity.
> 
> If anything doesn't make sense let me know so I can hopefully fix it.


End file.
